Broken Social Scene

In the late 1990s, Broken Social Scene linchpins Kevin Drew and Charles Spearin met at Toronto's Harris Institute for the Arts. "Kevin came up to me and said, 'You look like a guy who likes Tortoise,'" Spearin recounts in Pitchfork contributor Stuart Berman's BSS oral history This Book Is Broken. "Tortoise was the icebreaker." Fast forward more than a decade and the two musical soul mates are sitting in a big, empty room in Austin's Driskill Hotel, a mere wall away from SXSW's numbing hubbub. They're talking to me about their new album, Forgiveness Rock Record, produced by Tortoise mastermind John McEntire.

This strong sense of kismet runs through the BSS operation, with its oft-changing lineup that always seems to come together at the right moments. Even though Drew didn't think some high-profile Scenesters like Feist and Metric's Emily Haines and James Shaw would make it onto Forgiveness, all of them and more eventually came through. The result is another careening spree filled with anxiety, hope, love. Broken Social Scene are interested in the biggies that bring us together.

During our chat, Drew is a ham, cracking wise and inventing voices under his cowboy hat. Spearin is the voice of reason, delivering profundity while remaining casual. Drew is the boyish divorcé; Spearin is the grown-up husband and father of two. They're different people. But, rhapsodizing on the new album, they often seem to share a brain. "I love where you're going with this," Drew said to Spearin at one point, eager to hear what his friend would say next:

Pitchfork: I went back and read an interview you did with us in 2003, and even then you were talking about the fleeting nature of success. Now it's 2010 and people are still pretty interested in Broken Social Scene. Do you ever think about decisions you may have made along the way that would've totally derailed things?

Kevin Drew: Decisions were made that derailed us, but it's a testament to our relationships that everyone still likes each other. Still, we don't see everyone like we used to. One of the great things about all of these people coming on this record is I actually got to see them for a couple a days.

Charles Spearin: And they put their heart into it because they realized it's now a rare opportunity for us to get together like this. It feels like it did when we started the band.

KD: On this trip, I've been getting sentimental about the old days, when nobody really had much. We all built our bands off the backs of everybody, and that's kind of done now. It's great because everyone's doing really well, but everybody has their own ways of wanting to do things now. Ours are different from theirs, as theirs is different from ours. Does that make sense? That doesn't even work grammatically.

CS: You could just say, "There are differences." We come together, we break apart. Broken Social Scene is this umbrella which keeps it convenient so we can keep on making music. I'm not surprised that we're still doing it; I'm a little surprised we have the same umbrella.

KD: I've never made a record without Charlie ever. That says something. I became like his lover. And then he won't let me go and make breakfast with other people.

Pitchfork: Charlie, are you worried Kevin would fuck things up without you?

CS: [laughs] Maybe.

Pitchfork: How did you decide to go with "World Sick" as the first song released from the new album?

KD: We were listening to all of our managers and other people, and kind of said, "You tell us what to do this time, I don't want to have 17,000 discussions about it." We did a photo shoot the other day-- you should've seen how that went. Everyone's looking at the photos and saying, "I got a lazy eye," or, "I don't really wanna stand here."

CS: The only thing we can do is make music together.

KD: Everything else is a fucking nightmare. I was a little worried to come out of the gate with "World Sick", lyrically. But in the end it was great because it sounded like us and and people fuckin' embraced it.

Pitchfork: "World Sick" is the first song on the album, too, and when I heard it I was like, "OK, I feel comfortable with this song." And then the next track is this weirder one called "Chase Scene", and I'm like...

KD: "What the fuck?" It's our Pointer Sisters song. We had to do something different right after "World Sick". It's so great listening to a record that you love because of the parts that your friends are playing. When I walk into a room and Broken Social Scene's on and someone's like, "You want me to change it?" I'm like, "No, man, listen to Whitey's line! I love it!" It's not a focus on yourself and that's a great thing. While doing this record, Charlie kept calling me up being like, "Uh, I really like it." And I was like, "I like it, too. Should we try to find a problem?"

CS: You have your discrimination levels on high. One of the best ways to find the moment that's not working on an album is to sit down and listen to it with somebody because, even if they don't say anything, you know it's not the best when your anxiety goes up. Then, when the record's done, you have to turn off that critical mind, which is such a hard switch to make.

KD: Charlie's got that whole Buddhist thing going on. Whereas I'm Irish Catholic. I'm calling him up at 4:30 in the morning like, [panicked voice] "Charlie, I heard some distortion on 'Me and My Hand' last night. I think it's my voice. I think it's from the saliva. I'll see you in two hours." But it's true, if you suddenly feel anxious about something 'cause people are around, that's the thing that bothers you.

Pitchfork: "Me and My Hand" is a really quiet, vulnerable song, did you feel anxious playing that for people?

KD: Not at all.

CS: Brendan [Canning] did.

KD: It's my favorite love song I've ever written-- I wrote it for my hand. Brendan just looked at me, like, "I'm not really feeling it."

CS: While [producer] John [McEntire] was mixing one song in the main room, Brendan, Kevin, and I wrote and recorded a bunch of minute-long songs in the B room, and that was one of them. You hear a siren going by because we're in the hallway recording.

KD: We were leaving the next day so we said, "Johnny, we're making you an EP so you don't miss us while we're away." At the beginning of the song, I say, "We do it for Johnny," which is also one of the greatest quotes of our generation from Matt Dillon in The Outsiders. I love that fuckin' movie.

I can twist that song any way I want. Like, it could be about a guy who's retiring from war who's decided he won't destroy anymore even though he's got such a passion to do that. Or I can slide into being a love song for my hand. I've got it covered on all ends. Just depends on who I'm chatting with. I told another interviewer it's a song about a dick and Dick Cheney-- I got the double-dick going on. [laughs]

Pitchfork: I thought it may be about, um, admitting your indulgences.

KD: Like sex? I see it that way, too. If you really think about it, your hand has done so many things for you your whole life. I like the indulgence aspect because I say, "I gotta give it up," in the song. I'm a full-on addict-- I indulge in a lot on a lot of things.

I think Charlie and I might hook up. His wife would be cool with it, she's pretty progressive. And I don't think it would even make the band flinch. "Oh yeah, you guys are hooking up now? Great."

CS: Another question, quickly please.

Pitchfork: What does the title Forgiveness Rock Record mean? Whom are you forgiving?

CS: The cover of the record really summarizes it nicely; There are all these people gathered around this mysterious thing blasting out of the ground, which to me is forgiveness. It's not a religious kind of forgiveness, it's just that thing everybody needs. During some shows Kevin gets everybody to yell, "I'm sorry," because everyone has something to be sorry for. It's about that sense of release and not holding in all the tension. The world needs to exhale right now.

KD: And it's not doing that. It's getting worse. Every day. And we're in a lot of trouble. And it's not something you can dismiss, like, "Let's get a cheeseburger." It's actually coming a head and it's going to be very, very, very, very bad.

CS: It's not a stretch to look at any kind of scientific papers coming out and admit the world is dying. It's dying largely because of people's selfishness, anxiety, and disgust with themselves.

KD: Thus the need for all the distractions. People are getting sold a shitty story, and Obama is going to to be the one to show us that you can't do any fucking thing about it. I don't wanna be a total skeptic, but right now it's just a little troublesome. I don't have kids, and I'm having a hard time thinking about that now. [To Charlie] You have kids.

CS: You have a different take on the future if you want kids because you have an investment. They're inheriting this world and all the love that comes along with the loss and suffering. I remember this one poem I read that basically said you begin to love the world when you realize it's dying. And when you see that, then you can live your life with that full heart. And nothing can take that away. If you have any compassion at all, the world's constant rebirth really touches you in a way that's very profound and beautiful and painful at the same time. There is a joy in recognizing that suffering. You can't lose that even if the world is totally going down in the shitter.

KD: Yeah. I was married and divorced; I've said four "forevers" in my lifetime, and I refuse to say them ever again. I've been reading books about the natural relationships between men and women. I'm obsessed with it. And I find there's a loneliness out there amongst the modern relationship. But it's not a negative thing. Have you ever seen JCVD? There's a scene where Jean-Claude Van Damme's chair floats up-- I'm getting choked-up just thinking about it-- and he speaks about how beautiful people are. Fuck, man. I just wanted to take that scene and send it to everybody I knew.

Pitchfork: With this record, it feels like you've reached a this level of contentment within these uncomfortable, non-ideal spaces you're talking about.

CS: Right. Like the song "Forced to Love" has two meanings for me. One is how you get all the shit on TV where they're saying "love!" and just making people tear up. But then there are things like what happened in Haiti where you actually are forced to love. You can't see that and just brush it off. It's a complicated sentiment.

KD: I've only ever had my heart broken by myself. Well, someone else did it in high school, but I got over it. Jeff Buckley happened to be coming out around the same time-- Live at Sin-é helped me get through it. When I heard "Lover, You Should've Come Over" I remember thinking, "What the fuck? This girl is amazing!" Turns out it's a dude. Handsome little motherfucker, too. Um, where was I?

Oh yeah, I think it's a little too claustrophobic to try to remain in the historical patterns that were given to us. I mean, you gotta be kind and respectful, and you gotta work hard to be happy cause it's fuckin' easy to be sad. But there are a lot of things that aren't working that we still get forced to do and I don't really want to be a part of it anymore. And I have the choice not to be a part of it. That was the most freeing feeling that hit me in the past couple of years. I didn't have anyone in my life, so I suddenly focused more on my friends and family. And then I realized you actually can do what you want. You can have it all and, at the same time, try to change.

I'm a massive fan of music, but I fuckin' see some of these bands and they're mirrors; with other bands, you can see their blood. I'm sick of hanging out with people who have it all but are still stuck in the have-not prison. Let's get that out to all the new bands coming up: If it's a competition, it means you're just not feeling yourself that much.